


(Love is) Coming Home In Time For Tea

by redcurlzbychoice



Series: (From the Earth below to the Heavens above) That‘s how Far and Funny is Love [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And Finally: A First Kiss, Crowley‘s London Flat, Declarations Of Love, First Time, Fluff, Food Temptations, Friendship/Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Really Food Porn But Definitely Food Sensuousness, still lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcurlzbychoice/pseuds/redcurlzbychoice
Summary: „Oysters? You’ve got Oysters in your fridge?“ Aziraphale exclaimed utterly thrilled. „And they are already fully prepared with - with ... Oh, Crowley, REALLY? You DO remember after all these years?“And the light bulb in the fridge decided it could just as well cease to exist as the whole kitchen was flooded by a new flare of angelic illumination.Crowley’s mumble was barely audible. „Hmm, breadcrumbs and melted butter with cervisia sauce, how’m I ever to forget.“He tilted up his head and eyebrows and again this crooked hint of a smile curled the corners of his lips.„Eventually got myself into a habit of eating one of them when I was just too much ... aching for you. And you better get this, Angel, ’m definitely not nearly as fond as you are of that wibbly wobbly stuff!“He looked up to find Aziraphale beaming at him with an expression in his soft angelic face that Crowley had last seen from the corner of his eyes in a bombed out church in 1941.———In which our beloved Angel indulges in food favourites and discloses differences between affection and attraction, leaving Crowley pretty much in awe, until they kiss.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: (From the Earth below to the Heavens above) That‘s how Far and Funny is Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535789
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	(Love is) Coming Home In Time For Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Part 4 of yet another author’s venture on that bus scene post-Armageddon and what will follow...  
> Titles by courtesy of the unrivalled Mr. Freddie Mercury. May he party in peace.
> 
> (Love is) Coming Home In Time For Tea - or rather a Very Early Breakfast...but the lyrics were written in 1974 and probably didn’t see this coming.

Crowley offered his hand, again, and Aziraphale took it without missing a beat of his heavily pounding heart, and nestled himself under the taller man shaped being‘s arm with the same glimmer in his eye as before when caressing the wings of the demon statue. Such intwined they leisurely sauntered towards the satiation of those of Aziraphale’s desires that the angel could openly acknowledge without blushing.

The kitchen, pristine as every room in Crowley’s flat, was enough to make any chef of haute cuisine drivel senselessly out of sheer want to bring it into to use.Therefore it was an epitome of waste on Crowley and his cooking abilities and ambitions, but a most stylish epitome nevertheless. 

If Crowley chose to eat at all, it happened to be mostly in the company of a very peckish angel, and even then Crowley‘s preferred main course would more often than not consist of quietly observing the spectacle of his Angel savouring his various delicacies, and this regularly provided enough to satisfy Crowley’s hunger without the need of any further side dishes.

The only appliance in use was indeed the fridge, which sole raison d’etre in Crowley’s opinion was to always hold a stock of gourmet food, and thus it did. 

The contents adjusted themselves regularly according to Crowley‘s mood without him ever to have to open the door, and so at least the demon wasn’t much surprised about what was piled up on the first plate that came into his Angel‘s view as he opened the door.

„Oysters? You’ve got Oysters in your fridge?“ Aziraphale exclaimed utterly thrilled. „And they are already fully prepared with - with ... Oh, Crowley, _really_? You _do_ remember after all these years?“ 

And the light bulb in the fridge decided it could just as well cease to exist as the whole kitchen was flooded by a new flare of angelic illumination.

Crowley’s mumble was barely audible. „Hmm, breadcrumbs and melted butter with cervisia sauce, how’m I ever to forget.“ He tilted up his head and eyebrows and again this crooked hint of a smile curled the corners of his lips. „‘t was the first time you openly tempted me, Angel. If I hadn‘t been yours already, that would‘ve done me in, see?“

He shrugged his shoulders in a nearly apologetic way, and chose to scrutinize his Angel‘s shoes for spots while slouching to the worktop. „Eventually got myself into a habit of eating one of them when I was just too much ... aching for you. Been getting pretty close to the original taste over the years. And you better get this, Angel, ’m definitely not nearly as fond as you are of that wibbly wobbly stuff!“

He looked up to find Aziraphale beaming at him with an expression in his soft angelic face that Crowley had last seen from the corner of his eyes in a bombed out church in 1941.

Tonight though the Angel was not going to remain neither silent nor inert. „Oh Crowley! That is the most romantic thing you‘ve ever told me!“ he declared fondly and tipped up on his toes to peck a devoted triplet of the tiny kisses on Crowley’s cheek, but when Crowley stuttered -more out of centuries long habit- „‘m not romantic! I‘m a demon. Don’t you call me a soppy romantic, Angel!“ (in a stammer dripping with soppy infatuation though), the angel with a big happy smile (that somewhat tingled with anticipation) went back to rummage the huge fridge for further delicacies.

„So, what else do you have in stock to go with these .... most lovable oysters, dear? Let’s see ... Oh, my dearest! You‘ve got crepes!“

Crowley’s pert demonic tongue spilled the word before his spent brain could even think of keeping his mouth shut, and the offer came out in a precariously low, very undemonically high pitched voice.

„Myself?“

„Aah, Crowley,“ Aziraphale tutted, his head still in the depths of the fridge, „You‘re for dessert and not for starters. You surely do know that.“

Void.

Finally.

His mind.

Gone.

Alpha to omega.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Crowley clutched on to the worktop as for dear life and the only coherent thought his shriveled single celled brain could master was that this was about the least appropriate time to discorporate, so he‘d better keep his senses and get his heart restarted somehow.

Stunned he watched with blurred vision Aziraphale‘s back going in and out of the fridge as the angel placed plate after plate on the table, heard as from very far off his Angel’s soft exclamations of glee when he spotted yet another treat (that conveniently just materialized, so his brain must have some rare cells left) and was very politely yet firmly reminded by a benevolent specimen of these cells that his kitchen table happened to be one of these modern, very massive ones, that would easily hold any lifesize embodiment of the statue in his hallway.

Numbly he managed to move his dazed body over to the cabinet and decided on Whisky for himself, good old Talisker, dark, stormy, peaty, the heavily smoky one, just to remind himself that he was a demon indeed, not some lovestruck fool waiting and so so wanting to be Known in a very biblical way by his not-so-secret-anymore-crush at last.

He filled a tumbler to the rim, placed the bottle on the table with too much force and slumped down opposite Aziraphale, careful not to come too near to the angel („he‘s there, he wants you, maybe he‘s waiting for you for the first move“ the cell kindly reminded him - „SHUT UP!“ he cried, „can we just focus!“ „On food? Oh, well, sure, if you do insist, _dear_ “ the cell pouted back in a way he knew only too well, though in relation to edibles it caught him off-guard). 

Crowley downed the Talisker in one swig and refilled the tumbler while Aziraphale happily slurped his oysters and kneaded the soft brioche with his sensitive fingers, and suddenly Crowley spilled out a thought that had been nagging on his mind for more than 10 years, and the best part of the other six thousands as well. 

„I could change, you know, ehm, if you’d feel more comfortable with it,“ Crowley proposed carefully.

„Change what and why?“ Aziraphale asked clearly irritated, his eyes wandering from oysters to gunkan-maki and back to the crepes, with a short sojourn on Crowley’s face and roast apple with raisins and marzipan, his mind apparently occupied with the intricate question which of these treats he should try next. 

„Hmf, you acted so different when I was Nanny Ashtoreth. I, see, I always wondered if you’d prefer me in a female shape. If you were more at ease with the, hmf, usual constellation of relationships in, ehm, a biblical wa..., er, you know, if heaven ...“ the demon blushed deeply.

„Crowley!“ The angel seemed aghast. „What makes you even think I could wish for such a change in your appearances? Since when do you care what heaven thinks?“

„But I do care what you think, and what will make you feel more comfortable,“ Crowley hesitated.

„Then let me make this one clear once and for all!“

And if this wasn’t enough of an announcement that the Angel really did mean it, the fact that he had put down his oyster and shoved his plate aside most definitely was.

„Crowley, my dearest, my _Beloved_ : I love you. Whatever shape you come in, whatever your appearances are. I love what‘s inside of you, I love what is the essence of you. I love the kind -don‘t wince, you know it’s true!- and the cunning demon, I love your humor, your wit, your dry remarks, your imagination. I love our discussions and our gibberish. I simply love being in your company. Oh Crowley, do you understand? I love you because you are yourself. I love what makes you unique in this whole universe!“

He said it, not faltering once, as if he had pondered on these issues deeply and for a long time (which he had).

„And this has nothing to do with appearances or this gender thing. Those are on the outside, they’re mere facades. I love your innermost being, your core, your soul. I love YOU, not any facade you‘ve put on!“ Aziraphale declared with the same adamantine sheen in his eyes as earlier this evening when he had declared his love for the first time.

Crowley tried to grasp the meaning of what Aziraphale was offering to him, but he wasn‘t sure he had understood all facets of what Aziraphale had just avowed.

„So, you don‘t care about...?“ he asked warily.

„Well, actually, oh, ..., ehm, that‘s not exactly what I said.“ The angel got flustered again. „I do love you, indeed, whatever shape you happen to present yourself in.“ He sought for an apt analogy. „It‘s, well, it’s like your hair.“

„My hair?“ Crowley raised one eyebrow. „What‘s got my hair to do with ...?“

„I always liked your hair, my dear. But, indeed, you sported some styles over the years that, well, there were some I did rather enjoy to look at a lot more than others.“ The angel paused, and raised his eyebrows (how did Crowley do that with only one?).

„Oh, yeah, well, the seventies. Yeah, got y’, that was pretty bad.“ Crowley couldn’t help but cast a smirk to his Angel, who shuddered. „Indeed, hideous, my dear! I‘ve always loved your longer hair though,“ he added earnestly and his fingers seemed to twitch slightly.„When we were Godparents for Warlock I realised that while my affection for you never changed, I was somewhat more, well, indeed,“ the angel held Crowley’s gaze steadily, though blushed deeply as he openly confessed his devotion for the first time, „attracted to your male shape.“ 

„You ...?“

„Yes, I do! No doubt about that!“ the angel burst forth, and when his gaze wavered from Crowley‘s eyes to his neckline, lingering for an indefinite moment on the spot of pertly peeking hairy chest there, before forcing itself up to his eyes again, the colour of the angel’s face proved that he spoke the truth.

„And yes, you are right, I did have some issues about what heaven‘s views about it might be, but today, ... Crowley, I realised, if God‘s plan is about love, about pure, sincere love for another being, outer appearances like hairstyle or which gender you choose are so trivial, so utterly irrelevant and of no further consequence other than to bring joy to the lovers. Ehm.“ He blushed to a shade even more vibrant if possible. „To the ones that are in love, that is. You know what I mean. You _do_ know what I mean, Crowley, dear?“

Crowley was speechless once more. His Angel indeed had exposed so many layers of his innermost self tonight, more than he had ever dared to dream of, and never dared to wish for. His thoughts were scattered, and all he could master to respond was „Yeah, ehm, ’k. Point taken, Angel.“

He held on to his tumbler for desperately required support and decided there was no more need for alcohol because his head felt pretty besotted already from what Aziraphale had implied and he‘d rather keep his remaining brain cells functioning.

The demon gathered up his courage and asked cautiously „Aziraphale, what are we going to do now?“

But Aziraphale had already returned his attention to the culinary temptations sprawled out on the table. „Dear me, Crowley, now look at these crepes! Don’t they look exactly like the ones we had back in Paris!“ 

Crowley couldn’t help thinking ‚They do? Now, why would that be, Angel?!‘, but as he had rather been expecting yet another twist in Aziraphale‘s meandering path to the secrets of his soul and tacit wants, he wasn‘t surprised in the slightest that Aziraphale had once more steered back to the safe and sound waters of culinary delights for the time being.

He resolved to cover up his awkward question by another that had been eating away at him all night. „Angel, what are we going to do about Agnes‘ prophecy? Do you have any idea how we should make use of it?“ He tried to sound aloof but he knew he‘d failed when he bursted out „I can‘t stand to lose you. Never. And not now that we know what we feel.“ („Now do we all the way...?“ a notorious cell nagged.) „They‘ll be coming for us. Probably soon. What‘re we to do ’bout that? Angel?“

Aziraphale took a bite of the crepe, seemingly overwhelmed by the sensations his taste buds evoked. (This Mouth! His Lips!! Those soft little Sounds his Angel uttered when he relished the crepe whose fillings trickled all over his fingers and anointed his hands with honey and cream! Crowley‘s fingers clutched the tumbler for support.)

„Well, I‘m quite lost there, too, I‘m afraid.“ Aziraphale said loftily, his eyes closed, his eager tongue licking some cream cheese from his appreciative lips and his mind definitely focused more on the taste of the crepes and much less on the question or the effects this act of rapt indulgence might have on Crowley.

„Angel?!!“ Crowley was dishevelled.

„But for whatever the reason, I’m sure there’s a solution right under our wings, so to say. There must be an intention for us to have gotten a hand on this specific prophecy. I’m sure we can rely on Agnes for that,“ Aziraphale said distractedly.

The bite of the crepe and its taste had flooded him with memories of a night with Crowley in a certain brasserie in 1793 - a night that had stretched into a whole week with excellent food (which he had mostly indulged in) and exquisite wines (of which Crowley had had a more than fair share, although his own memory blurred rather a bit, too.) There had been quite a few long glances, irritating though strangely exciting exchanges of smiles, lots of happy chatting and an alarmingly increasing number of incidents when they found themselves sitting enthralingly near to each other. But then Crowley suddenly had bolted claiming in a constrained voice that it was all getting too much for him and he really needed to get out, to get some sleep (...or was it a bath...?) 

Yes, indeed, Crowley had gotten the taste of these crepes exactly right, Aziraphale acknowledged, impressed once more by his friend’s imaginative and temptative powers, and he meticulously licked a last trace of the filling from his nicely manicured fingers (‚fromage de chevres’ and honey - for heaven‘s sake, how should one ever get that off without the help of a tongue?), when a shattering noise from Crowley’s side of the table brought him back to the kitchen.

Aziraphale looked in awe, realised that Crowley had spilled that poor luscious whisky by smashing the whisky tumbler on the floor, took in the spectacle of the demon’s slender body sprawled all over the table, his face now barely an inch from the angel‘s, and beheld entrancedly the delightful sight of his Demon being utterly ravished by what he‘d just had to witness.

If Aziraphale had needed one more hint of an invitation, this was 6000 years worth of skilled temptation and clandestine want heading south and instead blatantly entreating him in front of his lips.

„Oh, my dearest, I do think it is about time for dessert, then,“ Aziraphale pondered cheerfully, his eyes sparkling, illuminating his face with the rosy glow of anticipation, and there was not a slightest hint of scarlet remorse anymore. „If that‘s alright with you, of course, my love.“

„Uh, oooh...., yup, ....,‘d suppose“ Crowley spluttered, and suddenly coming to his senses „...YES, ANGEL, what the FUCK are you STILL waiting ...?“

„There‘s surely no need for such language!“ the angel beamed with a rapturous smile that left Crowley writhing in want for one more -and last- time.

For Aziraphale inclined his head ever so slightly towards Crowley’s, and thus vanquished that last chasm between them, and their lips finally ignited.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of my Utopia. 
> 
> This took a while, again. I write rather slowly, holidays coming up, and then the first draft again blew up to this 21/2 k piece. The next part will hopefully be up a lot sooner... (and it‘s definitely going to be a lot of snogging...at least...)  
> (Just check it out or subscribe if you liked it.) 
> 
> As always, kudos and comments would be VERY much appreciated.


End file.
